On This Side of the Pit
by Operation Ravage
Summary: The story of Trypticon, the Decepticon destroyer of worlds.
1. Chapter 1

Shockwave turned and looked out the window of his personal chambers, his cycloptic visage being reflected in the thick, laser-proof glass that overlooked the smelting pools and refineries below. Several indistinguishable blobs bobbed in the molten slag of the pools, and Shockwave imagined that he could hear the screams of the condemned floating up to meet his audio receptors.

The smelting pools. So marvelous in their efficiency. Originally the brainchild of Straxus of Polyhex, Shockwave had ordered the construction of a similar facility in Iacon after witnessing their brutality on a state visit to the sister city-state. The smelting pools, filled with molten slag and the screams of the dying, lent a near-palatable sensation to the emotions of those trapped within their slick steel walls. One could nearly taste the fear, the pain, the remorse . . .

It was now 1998, and Shockwave had spent the past four million years building the Decepticons into an empire that stretched nearly a dozen systems. The Autobots had been routed from their home world, ringed in on their pathetic moonbases and fledgling Autobot City on Earth.

And he had done it all himself during Megatron's absence. But Megatron's reappearance threatened to throw a kink into Shockwave's empire. Although the cycloptic Decepticon still pledged loyalty to Megatron, the day was fast approaching where there would be a meeting of the minds, a battle of wills and brute strength. Megatron was too insane, too powerful . . . too illogical . . . to be given free reign. After all, hadn't Megatron focused his resources solely on the pathetic planet Earth, when there was an entire universe ripe for the taking?

But any further reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. The doors hissed open a second later, and in the reflection offered by the glass window, Shockwave could see his personal aide and executive officer, Magnificus, enter the room.

"Lord Shockwave," Magnificus offered, "I bring news from the Haleno system."

"Really?" Shockwave remarked, "an uprising, I suspect?"

"You are correct, as always," Magnificus stated.

"Spare me your compliments, Magnificus," Shockwave stated in his dull monotone, turning away from the window and stepping behind his desk, "I have neither the time nor the patience. If you had bothered to conduct an empirical analysis of current trends on native populaces throughout the Decepticon Empire, you would have seen a recent spike in the number of insurgent activities. This does not surprise or excessively worry me."

Magnificus recoiled noticeably, obviously taken aback by Shockwave's brusqueness. However, he quickly regained his composure. "Lord Shockwave," he continued unabated, "the world in particular is Obernia; the natives have taken the governor and his staff prisoner in the capital city of Sador."

"Obernia," Shockwave repeated, now staring out the window once more, "agricultural planet, about twenty-three light years from Cybertron. The Obernians are a tribal people, with scattered cities; no real countries or states to speak of. Sador exists primarily because the Decepticons established it for administrative reasons. Have they listed their demands yet?"

Magnificus shook his head. "No, my liege," he replied. "It's my personal recommendation that we ready an infantry battalion, attach a company of heavy armor troopers, cordon the city . . ."

Shockwave spun about suddenly. "Magnificus, you are getting ahead of yourself once more. You are thinking like a military commander. You must think politically."

"Do you mean that we should entertain the demands?" Magnificus asked, his voice full of skepticism.

"Of course not," Shockwave replied, "but we must, as the Earthlings say, 'nip this in the bud.' Examples must be made. Ready Trypticon for deployment."


	2. Chapter 2

Two hours later, Magnificus stood in a briefing room. The purple and black Decepticon, Full-Tilt, sat across the table from him. The small Decepticon had a scout car for his alternate form, and had somehow ended up being the caretaker for the massive and dim-witted Trypticon. It was a job that Full-Tilt secretly despised; he was so outmatched by Trypticon in terms of size and strength that he felt little more than a babysitter for the lumbering beast.

"All right, Full-Tilt," Magnificus started, "this is the situation." The black and grey Decepticon hit a button, and a hologram projection of a cloudy, yellow and green world presented itself before Full-Tilt.  
"Obernia," Magnificus remarked. "Heavy atmosphere, rich in carbon dioxide, but otherwise vaguely Earth-like. Sparse fauna, but good soil for farming. Ion ore deposits, too, which is why we colonized the planet."

The projection was replaced by a reddish-brown alien being wearing a light green tunic. "This is what your typical Obernian looks like. We believe that they may have had psychic abilities in their evolutionary past. However, these natural . . . talents . . . have since become latent. Notice how, other than their skin coloration and only having four digits per appendage, they are otherwise humanoid. They are predominately an agricultural people, with nearly ninety percent of their society focused on farming.

"The remaining ten percent is divided up to a number of jobs. Two percent for child rearing—the Obernians believe in communal parenting—three percent for architecture and infrastructure, four percent for strict military training, and the remaining one percent for religious duties."

"So, out of every one hundred Obernians I meet," Full-Tilt explained, "ninety grow things, four fight, three build things, two wipe infant's noses and one prays."

Magnificus stifled a chuckle. "To put it bluntly, yes. There will not be much shift in this paradigm; the Obernians are an extraordinarily statistically-minded society and believe in maintaining this balance. They believe that such numbers will ultimately lead to a utopia."

"They seem pathetically simple," Full-Tilt laughed. "Well, we've already established that they're not warriors."

"True," Magnificus agreed. "Your job is to find out what the Obernians are doing and to secure the release of the Decepticon governor. Use Trypticon to frighten them into submission."

"With all due respect," Full-Tilt stated, rising from his chair, "isn't turning Trypticon loose on the Obernians comparable to fixing a circuit with a sledgehammer?"

"That is simply your belief, Full-Tilt. Nothing more."

"Understood," Full-Tilt responded. "Well, I suppose that I'm going to have to get on with it. Anybody else going on this besides me and the big guy?"

Magnificus crossed his arms. "You'll have marginal support. Megatron's command is lending us Blitzwing. He's simply another gun, mind you. We're also dispatching a communications expert . . . Whisper. All in all, this is going to be a pretty open-and-shut mission; take Trypticon to Obernia, get the governor back, reinstitute Decepticon rule, and leave."


	3. Chapter 3

An additional hour later, Full-Tilt stood before a massive door to a hangar. Inside, the massive, sleeping form of Trypticon lay.

He grumbled out of apprehension. Trypticon was truly a destructive power--hate and loathing personified. And yet, the massive dinosaur was ultimately simplistic, secretly yearning for a peaceful existence, and thus hating his role in the Decepticon Empire. Full-Tilt knew of Trypticon's secret desires, but remained refused to entertain them.

Full-Tilt punched in an access code and entered the hangar. Trypticon lay in his battle station mode, with several wires connecting him to a recharging port. The massive Decepticon had three modes; the dinosaur mode, which was the most destructive form; the battle station mode; and a "city" mode.  
The "city" was not aptly named; it had been tagged that by the Decepticon propagandists. In reality, it was a simplistic temporary base of operations that offered a couple of repair bays, a communications array, a pair of helipads, a recharging station, and a pair of solar panels that Trypticon could use to power himself.

Full-Tilt approached one of the "legs" of the ba

ttle station and rapped his hand upon the side. "Wake up," he stated, "we've got a mission, Trypt."  
"I don't wanna go," the deep voice stated, reverberating throughout the confines of the hangar. "I want to stay here. I was dreaming good until you woke me up."

"Well, that's too bad," Full-Tilt responded. "Shockwave says that we have to. And you remember what happened the last time you didn't do what Shockwave said, right?"

The battle station began to shift, and Full-Tilt quickly sprung out of the way. Both sides of the station rose upward, tilting on their ends; and then they enveloped the apex of the structure. The lumbering form of Trypticon then stood upright.

Trypticon stared downwards at Full-Tilt. "I remember," he said, "Shockwave hurt me. He used the zap things."

"Yes, the electric shocks," Full-Tilt remarked, "and you don't want that to happen again, do you?"

"No," Trypticon bellowed, "Trypticon doesn't like to hurt."

"And neither does Full-Tilt," his companion remarked. "So we'd better do what Shockwave wants us to, right?"

"I guess," Trypticon admitted. "But I want to stay here more."

"Me too, big guy," Full-Tilt remarked, giving Trypticon a pat on the side of his huge leg, "me, too."


	4. Chapter 4

Several hours later, Full-Tilt peered out the window of the Decepticon freighter as they made their journey to Obernia. The lines of stars whizzed by the ship, and Full-Tilt could feel himself drifting into a light stasis.

Trypticon was down in the hold, still in his dinosaur mode. Getting him into the cramped confines had taken several hours, with Full-Tilt pleading, begging, and finally threatening the lumbering Decepticon.

Trypticon was adamant that he did not want to go; but he ultimately feared Shockwave more.

"We'll be there in about another hour," Blitzwing called back from the pilot's chair. Full-Tilt sighed; he would feel much more comfortable if Magnificus had allowed him to attach more Decepticons to this mission. The Seekers and the Combaticons were obvious choices he would have made.

But Full-Tilt knew what Shockwave was after; the cycloptic leader wanted to make a show of force. Trypticon, in all of his horrible glory, would frighten these farmers back into line, while using the minimum necessary Decepticon support.

He turned his attention to the tiny purple and black Micromaster that was seated across from him. "Whisper," he stated, "I haven't formerly introduced myself yet."

Silence met his attempted conversation, and Full-Tilt felt immediately uncomfortable. "Ah . . .," he stammered, trying to salvage the situation, "what do you think the Obernians will be like?"

Whisper snorted derisively. "They'll be altogether trusting and will keel over to our superior firepower and strength," he explained. "They know that they've got no chance to win in an all-out fight. They'll try to parlay . . . a little this for a little that, if you will. I suspect they took the governor hostage in response to what they perceive to be unfair and overly long working conditions.

"I did some research before we left," Whisper continued, "and the Decepticons, as an empire, are primarily concerned with the ion ore mines that are rich on the planet. The Decepticon leadership in Sador rounded up males and used them in mining operations, while the women attended to their crops. In all regards, Obernia was a rather model world in the Decepticon's imperial crown; the natives had many relative freedoms, including the right to form their own local councils, a standardized work shift, and the freedom to go to and from the city as they pleased, provided that they did not violate the curfew. And, until now, they were an obedient people. It's for this reason that the Decepticons maintained only a minimal presence on the planet."

Full-Tilt stared at Whisper for a long moment. "Your name's a misnomer, eh?"

Whisper stared daggers at Full-Tilt. "Do you want to talk about the mission, or do you want to make jokes?"

Full-Tilt held his hands upward. "No, no, nothing like that, just trying to bring a little humor to the situation, is all."

"Then you've failed spectacularly."

"Apparently so," Full-Tilt agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

The next hour passed extraordinarily quickly, and Blitzwing put the freighter into orbit around Obernia. Full-Tilt stared down at the yellow and greenish world below, feeling somewhat apprehensive about the negotiations that would occur next.

"All right," Whisper stated, "Blitzwing, you and I will descend to the planet via shuttle. Full-Tilt . . . you handle Trypticon." Full-Tilt simply nodded once, and watched as Blitzwing and Whisper took their leave from the bridge.

The small purple Decepticon then descended a service ladder, and found himself in the hold of the ship a moment later. Trypticon stood in his dinosaur mode, obviously feeling somewhat anxious himself.

"You ready for this, big guy?" Full-Tilt asked.

"What will I have to do?" the giant rumbled.

"I don't know yet," Full-Tilt admitted. "We'll just have to find that out when the time comes. Right; go ahead and let me on."

Full-Tilt sprang into the air and transformed into his car mode; a second later, he was thoroughly fixed to Trypticon's chest. It was a rather odd combination, to be sure, but it was effective. Unlike many Transformers, Full-Tilt's and Trypticon's minds did not merge when Full-Tilt combined to Trypticon.  
"All right," Full-Tilt called upwards, "I'm remotely releasing the airlock now. I'll guide you down to the planet's surface." The doors to the lock hissed open, and the vacuum of space howled inwards. Trypticon let out a disgusted wail as his feet left the ground and he plunged into the space around Obernia.

"Relax, big guy," Full-Tilt demanded, "fire your rear thrusters. There; that's good," he remarked as Trypticon righted himself. "Now, you see that big green landmass down there? Head for the East side of it."

Trypticon followed Full-Tilt's directions, and the pair entered the atmosphere a few seconds later. The landmass seemed to grow with their descent, and it wasn't long before features such as mountains and lakes became visible.

"Very good, Trypticon; you're getting good at this," Full-Tilt complimented as Trypticon's heavy feet touched down on a green hillside. Full-Tilt then disengaged from Trypticon and assumed his robot form. He turned in the direction of the shuttle that touched down nearby. "Listen, Trypticon," he stated, "I want for you to assume your battle station mode for now. I need to talk to Whisper and Blitzwing."

"But Trypticon wants to see this place," the dinosaur responded. "I think it's pretty."

"Pretty?" Full-Tilt bellowed, getting very tired of Trypticon's continued simplistic naïveté. "Pretty? You don't like pretty. You like destruction!"

But Full-Tilt sighed and dismissed Trypticon with a wave of his hand. "Fine. If you want to stare at flowers and trees, go ahead. But it's not going to be me getting zapped by Shockwave, that's for sure."

"Thank you," Trypticon grumbled with pleasure. "I will work hard. I want to see this first."

Full-Tilt shook his head as he wandered away. He had been playing nursemaid to Trypticon for well over a year now, but he had yet to wrap his head around Trypticon's psyche; the way he could gleefully crush an Autobot settlement contrasted sharply to his desire to look at fauna.

Still . . . whatever made the big guy happy, Full-Tilt reckoned. After all, it was Trypticon that was going to make this mission a success or a failure.

"Glad you could join us," Blitzwing remarked sarcastically as Full-Tilt approached the shuttle's landing site. He then jerked his head in Trypticon's direction, who had his massive face turned to the blue-green sky above. "What's with him?"

"A little disoriented, that's all," Full-Tilt lied.

"Well, he'd better get re-oriented," Whisper added. "We've got work to do. Shockwave knows that we've made planet fall, and he wants us to make contact with the tribal leadership of Sador within the next hour. You want to talk to the high priest, or should I?"

"I'll do it," Full-Tilt remarked. "Since we're using Trypticon to scare them straight, I'm the best qualified." Full-Tilt then raised his radio communicator upwards. "Trypticon, assume your battle station mode."

"But—"

"Do it!"

The heavy clank of machinery filled the air, and Full-Tilt smiled as Trypticon obeyed the order. A rumble of discontent issued forth from the massive beast. "See? No problems," Full-Tilt laughed. "Now, let's go talk to some tribal elders, shall we?"


	6. Chapter 6

The appearance of three Decepticons on the outskirts of the Obernian city sent up a general alarm among the populace. The communal caretakers shuffled the children inside as Full-Tilt, Whisper, and Blitzwing strode by, the three standing abreast of each other.

"You," Blitzwing demanded, pointing towards a red-skinned farmer, "take us to the central hall, where the Decepticon governor is. We need to talk to the priest."

The Obernian bowed out of assent and quickly—nervously—led the trio through the winding streets. "This is stupid," Blitzwing mumbled. "If Megatron were here, he would have leveled this place—no bartering, no negotiations, nothing!"

"But Shockwave isn't Megatron," Whisper offered, "and Shockwave has a different plan."

The three Decepticons found themselves before a low, tan building a few moments later, and the Obernian quickly scuttled away. "Guess this is it," Full-Tilt announced, striding forward. He then flung open the wooden door to the building.

A religious leader wearing a set of flowing gold and green robes looked upwards at the intruders. He then spread his arms outward and smiled. "I've been expecting you," he remarked.

"Let's get down to business," Full-Tilt demanded, "you know why we're here."

"Of course," the priest replied. "Please, call me Osinian. I can assure you that your compatriots have not been harmed. That is not our way. Please, come with me into our conference room. I'll have a servant bring some refined energon from our stores for you. You must be parched, after all."

"Cut the formalities, priest," Blitzwing snarled. "My patience is wearing thin already."

"If you will not honor me by sharing a meal," Osinian stated, shaking his head sadly, "I am afraid that we will not be able to conduct this business in a formal fashion, one that would be mutually advantageous."

"Listen," Blitzwing bellowed, reaching forward and grabbing Osinian by the collar and pulling him close, "we'll conduct this in a way that benefits us. Not you. We've got a full mobile Decepticon battle station right outside of your city. What do you say to that?"

"I say that it would be a pity to resolve this minor dispute in such an overzealous fashion," Osinian replied.

"Blitzwing," Full-Tilt demanded, "let him go." The Triple-Changer shot a scowl towards Full-Tilt, but then dropped his prisoner. Osinian picked himself up from the floor and dusted off his robes.

"Alright, Osinian," Full-Tilt stated, "let's try this your way. But if we don't like it, we're going back to mine. Clear?"

"Undeniably so," Osinian nodded. He then wiped his forehead on the back of one of his long sleeves.

"Well," he continued, "let's get started, then. If you would please follow me, gentlebeings."

The priest led them down a narrow hallway and into a long, narrow room, with high walls that sloped upwards to make a triangle at the ceiling. There was a long table a few feet off the ground, and Osinian grumbled as he lowered his body to the floor. "Ah," he remarked as a knee audibly popped, "this old body isn't as spry as it used to be." He then pulled his feet in close to his body and positioned himself behind the table.

Full-Tilt and Whisper also took their seats, with Blitzwing casting a wary eye at the door. "I don't articulate that way," he scowled.

"Quit complaining and sit down," Full-Tilt demanded.

Blitzwing let out a grumble of disgust and pushed himself to the floor, seating himself to the right of Full-Tilt. Osinian smiled as a young female Obernian entered a moment later, carrying a tray before her.

"Ah, energon for the honored guests," he stated as the woman placed a trio of glasses before them.  
"And weak breubark tree for the priest," the woman smiled, "just as you like it."

Blitzwing shot a scowl towards Whisper. "I'm hating this place," he hissed, "they're way too nice."  
"Shut up!" Full-Tilt shot back. He then turned towards Osinian, who had already raised his cup to his lips and had begun to sip lightly, "alright. What did you have in mind?"

Osinian pulled his cup away. "Decepticon warriors," he began, "you came here, two decades ago, to spread the Decepticon Empire to our planet. The Decepticons have been good to us. We have modernized our farming under your tutelage; new sciences have eradicated many painful maladies. But I fear that we cannot continue to work for you like this."

Blitzwing made a move to interrupt, but Full-Tilt silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Explain, priest."

"We are a humble farming people," Osinian continued, "but we work too long in the mines. We do not have enough time to grow food for our own families! Our children grow hungry at night. They cry with hunger pains."

"And so you kidnapped the governor," Full-Tilt surmised. "What is it you want? Shorter hours?"

"Perhaps," Osinian admitted. "Or perhaps the Decepticon Empire would be gracious enough to bestow us with drone workers who could mine. It would allow more Obernians to grow food, and productivity would increase."

Full-Tilt leaned back. "That doesn't sound terribly unreasonable," he admitted. "Let me talk to my superiors. Until then, release the governor and his staff."

"Unfortunately, I cannot do that," Osinian smiled at Full-Tilt. "We will not harm him, of course . . . but I need a guarantee of your good word. For our own safety, you see. But, as a sign of good will, I will release two members of his staff into your custody."

As if on cue, a pair of double doors opened at the far end of the room, and a pair of guards brought forth two Decepticons. Full-Tilt immediately recognized them as Quake and Needlenose.

"I thank you so much for your time today, gentlemen," Osinian said, his smile beaming, "but I know that you've got business you must attend to. So . . . same time tomorrow, then, I can expect your answer?"

"That'll work fine," Full-Tilt responded.

"Excellent!" Osinian said with a laugh. "I'll have a contingent of guards escort you through the city. We saw your rather large friend land, so we know where you are."


	7. Chapter 7

Sador. The next day.

Full-Tilt sat in the temple, seated at the same table as yesterday. He gripped a liter of refined energon and tilted his head backwards, allowing the pinkish goodness to cascade down his throat. These Obernians certainly knew how to entertain their guest.

Osinian waited in silence while Full-Tilt finished his drink. After Full-Tilt wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the Obernian elder spoke; "have you reached a resolution to yesterday's discussion?"

Full-Tilt nodded. "I've been in contact with my superiors. They are quite adamant that they want Governor Thunderwing returned . . . and they're willing to supply the mining drones to you to ensure this. Be warned, though, that the Decepticon Empire is typically not this . . . cooperative."

A smile broke over Osinian's features. "Excellent!" he beamed. "I was . . . concerned. We had heard rumors . . . horrible, impossible rumors, mind you . . . of other worlds in the Decepticon Empire that had been destroyed because of their disobedience."

Full-Tilt opened his mouth to speak, but Osinian continued. "My people will rejoice!" He then turned in the direction of the female servant, "quickly, bring Governor Thunderwing here at once."

The servant bowed and disappeared from the room. A moment later, she returned, with the blue and gold Decepticon following closely behind her.

Full-Tilt rose and offered a salute. "Governor Thunderwing," he announced, "it is good to see you safe. Shockwave has requested your presence on Cybertron . . ."

But Thunderwing cut off Full-Tilt with a wave of his hand. "I imagine he does. Probably for imprisonment and interrogation," he snarled. "Mark my words, there will be a new governor here before the week is out."

Thunderwing's words hung in the air for a long moment before Osinian broke the silence. "I beg your pardon, governor," he stated, "but I believe that our renewed relationship with the Decepticon Empire calls for celebration. I will make an announcement to the people regarding the kindness bestowed upon us. And then, I believe a feast is in order."


	8. Chapter 8

The outskirts of Sador. Four hours later.

Full-Tilt leaned back against Trypticon's foot; the large Transformer had assumed his dinosaur mode and was staring at the alien constellations above.

"I tell you, Trypt," Full-Tilt said with a nod of his head, "things couldn't have worked out better." The fires of the city still shone brightly, despite the setting sun; Osinian's words had been a measure of relief for the citizenry, who had feared terrible retribution by the hands of the Decepticons. "Now this . . . this is the way to do things. Talking things out . . . it worked out unbelievably well."

"I think so, too," Trypticon remarked slowly. "They have been good to us."

Full-Tilt stared at the progression of children on the nearby hill. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I guess they have. We've got Thunderwing back, they'll be getting their robot drones in a matter of weeks . . . all that remains now if for me to notify Shockwave about our mission success."

"It feels good to not have to smash things," Trypticon remarked.

"Oh . . . yeah," Full-Tilt remembered, pulling the little paper bird out of a leg compartment, "the little girl with the red ribbons . . . she wanted you to have this." Full-Tilt extended the small ornament upwards, and Trypticon awkwardly bent over and accepted the gift in one of his clawed arms. The giant held the little bird aloft, trying to get a good look at it by the light of the setting sun.

Full-Tilt waved at Trypticon. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he called. "I'll make my report from the shuttle, and then we'll leave in the morning."

The journey up the hill passed quickly, and Full-Tilt entered the shuttle a moment later. The assembled Decepticons—that being Thunderwing, Blitzwing, Whisper, Quake, and Needlenose—eyed him carefully as he entered.

"Some mission," Blitzwing mumbled, "we didn't even get to break anything."

"Exactly," Full-Tilt whispered. "A successful mission."

Thunderwing simply shook his head, but Full-Tilt ignored this and gripped the monitor knobs. After a few slight adjustments, the visage of Magnificus became apparent.

Full-Tilt offered a salute. "The mission has met with success," Full-Tilt explained. "The governor and his staff have been extracted. The Decepticons are the undisputed rulers here, and the populace has renewed their loyalty to the Empire."

Magnificus nodded his head. "Excellent," he stated, "but I believe that Shockwave would like to hear your report for himself." Magnificus stepped out of the way, and Shockwave's view became apparent on the screen.

"Lord Shockwave," Full-Tilt began, "our mission has met . . ."

"I know," Shockwave interrupted. "Good work."  
Full-Tilt beamed at the compliment. "When can we expect the drone workers to be delivered?" he asked.

Shockwave shook his head. "They're not coming."

"Not coming?" Full-Tilt repeated. "But . . . I made an agreement with . . ."

"We are not in the business of making agreements, Full-Tilt. You should know that. Now that Thunderwing has been extracted, you have new orders—destroy the city."

"But . . ." Full-Tilt started.

"No excuses. No arguments. We are Decepticons, Full-Tilt. We must make an example of these creatures. Disobedience will be dealt with harshly . . . and justly."

The screen went blank, leaving Full-Tilt standing there alone.

"Sounds like you've got a rough choice there," Whisper smiled. "You going to follow that particular order?"


	9. Chapter 9

Full-Tilt shielded his eyes as the sun rose over the Obernian hill. Several hours had passed since the conversation with Shockwave at this point. A cold mist hung low in the air, visible due to the flames that danced from the ruins of the scattered buildings.

"I did a bad thing," Trypticon stated. The words came out slowly, hollowly.

Full-Tilt turned his head in the direction of the smoking village, to the charred corpses of the Obernians that lay strewn about. He patted his hand against Trypticon's massive leg, sending a reverberating "clank" throughout the silence.

"No, no," Full-Tilt said with his head lowered and his voice threatening to crack, "You did good. You did good."

A gust of wind spilled across the Obernian plain, lightly brushing the ruins of Sador with its delicate kiss. A scrap of red ribbon spiraled into the air, and then it was gone, carried away by the wind.


End file.
